There's Always Some Strings Attached
by tremor3258
Summary: Literary Challenge 67 entry: A rogue Section 31 agent has identified a Romulan Republic captain as an Iconian pawn


Submitted as Challenge 2 for Star Trek Online's official forums' Literary Challenge 67 :

"There's Always Some Strings Attached."

by tremor3258

"Just get us back to the ship, Jeral - whatever it takes," Vice Admiral An'riel ordered in her most imperious tone, if sotto voce, brushing past the cloak indicating her rank, gestured for her Trill liaison officer to lead the way. He'd proven as useful in navigating the bureaucracy as his skills as a security officer in her long-term loan/hired gun status for the Federation. Such troopers, after all, tended to be snapped up by the Tal Shiar in the bad old days.

Her Trill liaison officer with Starfleet nodded once, briskly. He wasn't wearing the usual green stripes to indicate an association with the Republic - in the new dress uniform Starfleet had authorized instead. It wasn't quite clear if Romulan vice admirals came under the uniform customization exceptions - and also, the Romulans preferred the tunics and jackets of Republic duty uniforms compared to the heavy, _imperious_ epaulettes and high collars of their dress uniforms. The least he could do was suffer in sympathy - it'd been a very bad few weeks.

His captain and the rest of her bridge crew, and half the rest of her complement, had been debriefed extensively by the strategy division at Space Station K-7 after the chaos of the last week. The cease fire had been signed, but most of the Klingon High Council had died, and Starfleet's command structure literally had holes ripped right through it. Everyone who wasn't being debriefed had been loaned out to maintain or repair systems at K-7 or the surrounding systems.

She and her crew didn't have much experience at K-7. She and D'tan didn't agree on Reunification in a sense of rejoining the Vulcans, but she believed in the Republic - and that meant not lending her fire to the intermittent front lines of the Klingon Front. She'd been on K-7 maybe four times, and didn't know her way around.

And, An'riel had publicly and loudly sword vengeance and death against a Federation citizen the last time she'd been around, which meant Jeral had to carefully stop them from being stopped for more questions and make very sure the merry band of Romulans he had fallen in with did not see parts of the strategy division.

Franklin Drake, some sort of civilian strategist, had asked for help in following up on the True Way mercenaries that had one been bounty-hunting Republic ships, and An'riel had some experience and good instincts with unravelling conspiracies. What they'd discovered were time-travelling, phantom, radiation-spewing, brain-sucking aliens. Really. But, after blasting storybook demons right back where they came from, An'riel had learned that a piece of active Borg tech had been smuggled onto her ship.

The Trill reflected that Romulans usually didn't visibly get angry - the Remans tended to more, but the Romulans seemed to feel it used up valuable plotting time. So, when someone who'd merely nodded and expressed warm thanks - publicly, everyone had heard her screams during the nightmares - after being rescued from a Tal Shiar indoctrination, had started waving a plasma pistol around the bridge and demanding the command codes to beam Drake right out of his office and gun him down, it'd taken him by surprise.

Jeral's contacts at Command indicated some sort of quiet deal had been arranged - a huge influx of materiel and supplies to the Republic, an upgrade from the old second-hand D'deredix Obisek had gifted from the Vault to one of the new designs the Republic had created, and a very quickly arranged, very high-profile terrorist-hunting assignment to the Cardassian front and away from the Neutral Zone for An'riel.

Whatever blood price had been granted her, Jeral did not want to provoke it. The last organization that had experimented with 'wild' Borg tech, after all, had been systematically dismantled, in very large part, at the slim hands of a russet-haired Romulan. And there were plenty of shadows to fight before hunting specters in the Federation.

An'Riel relaxed as the familiar blood-colored sparks of her Ha'nom's transporter beam enveloped her, and the bright lights and metal of K-7 were replaced by the warmer tones and less harsh light frequencies of _Great Owl_'s transporter room 1, home away from Tau Dewa. It'd taken a lot of-tradeoffs for the Republic to match the sensor and lab capabilities of Starfleet's ships and still be a proper Warbird, but An'riel loved every rivet and knew every noise it made.

She frowned, or at least every noise it was supposed to make. The deep hum of the singularity core was muted - the injectors weren't running. She turned towards Veril, and, true to form the Reman engineer was already tapping on her wrist communicator. At An'riel's eyebrow, the chief engineer shook her head.

"You would think," An'riel said dryly, "That having saved two homeworlds would get us a better priority on antimatter refueling." _Great Owl_ had raced literally from the Delta Quadrant to Earth to Qo'nos at high warp without pause, and that much effort had seriously drained her fuel reserves. Their battle damage had been relatively light and they'd repaired it themselves, but all of K-7's facilities were at capacity.

Jeral spoke up, "I'm sorry Ma'am - I checked when I was over there, but I got routed to another office - there's convoys missing all over the place and there's still ships being confirmed missing."

An'riel studied the Trill just enough to make him twitch - he had a very good soul, and she admired his efforts to stop her doing something so dishonorable, bless his spots. She did enjoy occasionally reminding him the Federation wasn't perfect. The Republic had its own destiny, and even if she agreed with the Federation more among the great powers, she didn't intend to blaze a trail that ended with the Republic a mere client state

"It's all right, Jeral - we've got almost all of Hiven's operations staff, half the engineers, and most of Satra's medical team running missions to local worlds as it is - we're all well aware how badly logistics have torn up and how many holes are left even with all the efforts to patch it. And with the Elements-damned Iconians up to _something_…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"I think we'll be headed back to the Jenolean Sphere. There's something there they don't want us to explore, but we still have a house to put into order," she said. She rubbed her eyes. Her endurance of her species was considered unusually high for most of the galaxy, but that had given out around the third time she and her team had been explaining exactly what shade the light was when the Iconian burst into the Great Hall.

"Everyone's feeling the strain of keeping the sector from burning down." She stood straighter and tapped her wrist communicator: "Orders to follow - light duty shifts the next few hours, minimum coverage is allowed - continue shore leave cycle, tie into the alert stations at K-7 for emergencies." _Great Owl's_ computer beeped, processing and updating duty cycles. She flipped it off and looked at her friends and crew, "Ship's office meeting - make it eight hours, get some food as well, and sleep if you can." She smiled briefly, "I suspect light duty will end soon - eventually Starfleet will finish promoting into holes enough to realize they have a Romulan cloak lurking around."

Eight hours later, An'riel was feeling much better to be back in the Republic's 'work jacket' uniform after a shower, a nap, and checking in with Obisek on how the aftereffects of the Undine attack were affecting the REpublic. She nodded to the Uhlans manning the communication and engineering consoles with the ship on standby. They also, she was pleased to note, looked properly rested at least, and eager to be off. The ship's shuttle complement was returning as duty assignments were finished, and she wanted her people back, and according to her workstation, a tanker convoy was on its way to K7, so they'd be able to spread their wings soon - apparently there'd been some confusion finding a convoy commander.

She walked through to the ship's office. She'd once had a discussion with Jeral about the 'ready room' tradition of Starfleet, with the officer who was probably least likely to have paperwork directly involving the bridge having the closest office. And heavily customized, even though they had the largest quarters. The Ha'nom was so large that An'riel's current quarters were bigger than her house on Virinat, and she had a nice office down there. Generally, whoever was next on watch on _Great Owl_ grabbed it to catch up, a tradition that had started three warbirds back. It made a useful bridge officer conference room thanks to the sofas. Apparently Starfleet ships had more lounges.

She was also, unsurprisingly, the last to arrive, even though she was five minutes early. The chair behind the desk was invitingly empty and a mug of her current favorite tea blend had been placed. _Such_, she mused_, are the perks of command_.

"I'll want the department reports later, but first I've gotten the strategic situation back home from Obisek," she declared, smiling slightly at the wave of interest that washed through her friends' body language. "New Romulus was not assaulted by the Undine. The Tholians also seem to be biding their time currently - we've reestablished control at Dyson Command. D'tan is currently diverting materiel flows in excess of the agreement to our allies, but considering the chaos we've been dealing with out here, the sooner the Klingons and Federation are re-organized, the better." Torvan at this, reached over and nudged Jerel, who winced, not just from the poke. An'riel didn't smile, as she was busy being Admiral.

Her liaison's discomfort at his family's teasing of his House, as it were, had her reorganize her mental outline. "We are currently still seconded to Starfleet, however, and operating under its authority for the time being. We've been able to show the flag in areas we wouldn't have the chance otherwise, and there's been another round of commendations approved after last week's little miracle. That said, the new wave of ships should be off the yards soon better utilizing the principles of technology discovered in the Sphere, and we're still on the fast track for a new one." She did permit herself to smile at that. She loved having a science ship equal in sensors to Starfleet, but it was nice to be recognized.

"Obisek would like to arrange some interviews and debriefing," Professional officers (or even amateur officers, she allowed, with how half her crew had joined her) did not groan and throw objects during formal briefings, but they certainly looked like they wanted to, "It's clear something happened with unlocking the Jenolan Sphere and its access to the Delta Quadrant - I suspect we'll get to do some proper expl-" the room's communicator chimed and her blood nearly froze. What could be that important now?

"Yes?" she said, after a moment to steady her breathing.

"Communication from K-7 Admiral," reported the bridge, "Commander Wildman with a request for communications."

"Put it on the wall screen," she ordered, "And see if you can get an ETA on that tanker." Bridge acknowledged, and the hybrid face of K-7's commander popped on, smiling if harried.

"Admiral, good to reach you. I apologize for the delay in servicing your ship, especially with its critical role. The C&C net is falling back into place, and we've extended formal apologies to Tau Dewa." An'riel nodded graciously, and the Commander continued, "In spite of the cease-fire, we've had several ships on independent assignments go missing, and we were building a profile of the case and wanted to have you as an asset."

An'riel spoke, hesitantly, "Commander, if these are independent Klingon privateers, I understand that legally the Republic would be protected from issues with the High Council, and I fully understand the importance of trade, but-" She shrugged, resigning her ship to another week waiting to get refueled, at least. Getting Republic vessels tied up in the war of their allies was a _bad_ idea, in her opinion, though she knew several countrymen who was involved in the game of raid and counterraid.

To her surprise, the Commander shook her head, "Actually Admiral, this doesn't appear to be House raiders going for a last chance before J'mpok clamps down. The ships involved have been highly decorated - several were at Vega - and some of the best of our rising officers, all appear to have been taken off-line quickly. After events in the First City, we believe it may be Elachi." Now her crew murmured, and she nodded.

It fit the Elachi profile of shadowy raids, and the Elachi had become bolder of late, not hiding behind the tattered cloak of Tal Shiar 'governance' of their activity. Even at Starfleet's epicenter of the concluded war, there were other science vessels, but _Great Owl_ probably had more experience with the Iconian's slaves than anyone else at K-7. Her mind raced. And - her own reluctance to get involved in the Federation's war with the Empire helped as well - a science vessel doing warp scans of the Neutral Zone would otherwise be inflaming tensions no one could afford.

"With the speed of the attacks," Wildman continued, "We believe they may be using an active gateway somewhere in the Neutral Zone region - hiding it in subspace. Some of our Intelligence analysts have been working on a new program for identifying that sort of subspace activity, and it arrived in this morning's data packet. I'm sure you'll get more out of it than I did-" Wildman, An'riel recalled was tactical track.

"Operationally it requires a 'quiet' portion of space with little warp activity. With the falloff in action on the Neutral Zone, there are several strategic points that are now quiet enough to qualify, and we've got one picked out. The downside is the repeater stations haven't been replaced yet, you won't have realtime subspace back here, but we know you can take care of yourself, and if you do find anything," Wildman smiled, somewhat ferally in An'riel's opinion, "Come on back and we'll find a task force to go knock on any gates."

An'riel gave a relieved smile and spoke, "I'm more than happy to share the honor, Commander Wildman. The Elachi threaten the entire Beta quadrant, Commander - _Great Owl_ and the Republic are honored to assist. We will leave once we are able."

"We're transmitting the operations folder now - we have a spot picked we'll try and keep traffic diverted around. The freighter captains are mainly a bit spooked right now, but we've already got independents headed over the Neutral Zone." An'riel checked her console that the download had started, and Wildman signed off - off to the next crisis. _Once again I am happy my rank in a sinecure, _An'riel thought to herself, _1500 lives is almost more trust than I can bear_.

It'd taken Starfleet only a day or two once the convoy was in motion to set out, and fuel had been doled out. Many ships were leaving to other fronts, and the injured were headed for a long refit in the shipyards. D'tan and Obisek were not the only ones planning a Delta expedition, clearly. _Great Owl_ was now approaching its destination at a graceful speed of Warp 8 so An'riel and the science department could reach the particulars of their orders.

After some discussion with specialists - gravimetrics and he exotic particles of normal space were a stronger area for An'riel. Satra was, while an excellent doctor, more the science departments's administrator than an actual science officer in the usual sense, and Hiven had a good grasp of theory, but was a computer theorist and operations specialist in the end. They'd decided the new 'technique' was really just a more standard in-depth subspace tracking scan with some new frequencies. Still, it wasn't a _bad_ idea, they might get lucky and spot some Elachi in transit, and it might even work. Maybe.

"Warp travel will cease in ten seconds," reported Hiven. . "Preplanned power reconfiguration ready and diagnostics show clear. Ship secured at action stations" Her main crew and friends were on the bridge, Veril overseeing her department from the repeater station while D'vex, that old campaigner, kept an eye on impulse. The Reman gave a quick thumbs-up as the singularity bled off power, and the ship's light and tone changed upon entry to real space. Lateral sensors showed a fairly typical swatch of space, some long-cold asteroids orbiting a common point. That was expected, the large mass would provide some shielding against backscatter from the warp trails of more inhabited space and would make for an 'emptier' view.

"Normal procedure," An'riel ordered, "Give me a scan for anomalies and perform a concentrated sensor sweep of the surrounding area. When some processing is freed up, get me a rundown of those asteroids." She may be young, and lived far from Rator, but it hadn't taken Virinat to make An'riel cautious or curious. _Only we can know our own honor_, she'd once heard as a quote, _as the only one Rhinnasu can see truly is ourselves_. It was too easy to consider multiple angles - an asset in space, but it had nearly poisoned her people's politics and sold them all to worse-than-slavery. And she hadn't been one for long, but once a rockhound, you can't help but see potential rewards at any rock that large.

Later, in retrospect, she'd considered that even with her 'plotting', she was not expecting anything to appear. Still, let the Vulcans consider it 'logic' or 'calculating odds' with their better press, it had certainly saved their lives this time.

"Admiral," reported Hiven urgently, "I'm getting an anomalous material return near the asteroids - certainly refined duranium, but I'm having trouble holding the signal."

"Battle alert! Accelerate to full impulse and give me tactical," she ordered, as the klaxon briefly chimed. The view of the black blinked off - a hazy signal indicating poor return showed up. She observed the distance markers with a chill - it would have just been in weapon range if she'd proceeded at full impulse, or relying on a normal sweep, she may not have spotted it. It could be some lost derelict, but it was also possible An'riel would get a call from the Tal Shiar, with a polite request for her to become Empress.

"Do not cloak," she said, "Get that trace solidified and begin analysis," she said. Satra nodded and contacted her teams as An'riel continued, "Proceed into weapon range, and prepare to issue challenge on standard frequencies." They'd be in range shortly but the asteroids were apparently slightly radioactive, and with the ship moving relative to the original sweep, Hiven's tracking was degrading, and cloak would muffle most of _Great Owl's_ sensors. And, she had a suspicion -

"Energy flare from target!" Hiven interrupted as the shields, held in readiness at this alert level snapped on as an arc of energy blazed across them. Meanwhile, the target snapped into relief on tactical -the blazing red of an enemy contact - it had, indeed, been actively damping its signature. Satra reported, "Initial contact indicates a force beam of unusual composition - appears to be a modified cutting beam of Borg origin." An'riel nodded. That was on the edge of not being unusual, many of the best ships on all sides had been refitted, but if they'd been cloaked without shields, they'd already be in trouble. The enemy ship was starting to accelerate relative to them, and, she noted, was beginning to enter tactical maneuvers they weren't ready to match.

"Torvan - ready torpedoes for immediate firing. Jeral, deploy tactical teams to computer priority - get me good shots. Work with Hiven and get targets on their engines. Satra, ready deflector teams to generate a Tyken's Rift and -" she paused, and whirled on Hiven as the tactical icon began to flutter between a friendly green and an enemy red.

Hiven shrugged and reported urgently, "Transponder contact as _U.S.S. Hestia_ - Federation starship, _Vesta_-class. Warp signature matches transponder identification!"

"Tactical, _do not shoot_, Torvan, hold fire," she repeated unnecessarily, "Hiven, broadcast our clearance codes and IFF again, pull up anything we have on the ship and captain." She leaned forward, maybe that ship had been awaiting Klingons and didn't know the war was over. It had only been a week. "Prepare message: Federation vessel _Hestia_, this is _R.R.W. Great Owl_, we are a Republic vessel aligned with the Federation operating on a Starfleet mission, please cease fire." Hiven nodded again, and she studied tacticall. In a minute, she'd know whether or not it had worked.

Instead of a bridge popping up on the viewer, her bridge lurched as fiery red bolts burst out of the _Hestia's_ forward weapon points and she winced. Starfleet had been quite pleased to show the specs for their newest science craft, and she'd expected its captain had refitted it with cannons, but antiprotons were a cut above. That level of cutting-edge meant a _lot_ of pull with somewhere in Starfleet, and her repeater showed abrasions developing in the hull from what had leaked past.

"Enemy ship has begun blanketing subspace frequencies!" Satra reported. They could not call for help - at least with the shields up, at this range from any friendly transmitter. Short-range should have still been open, but...

"We cannot wait for a response. Please note in the ship's log we our engaging in an effort to drive down her shields and ascertain the _Hestia's_ quantum signature - it may be _very_ lost," she said. "Deflector control, prepare Tyken's Rift. Torvan, prepare to target enemy impulse drivers." Her oldest allies nodded, and with a slight thumb, _Great Owl's_ heavily refitted paired navigational deflector and long-range sensor system, her most powerful and flexible broadcast device, combined with the measurements made by her science staff… and they made space _twist_. The Void of Elements practically screamed as a hole opened in nothing, a hungry maw for power. Torvan's plasma beams went into action, causing spot failures in EPS conduits and making the ship decelerate.

She nodded. A few more seconds and the ship's power should be reduced enough to let her peer through _Hestia's_ shields. If not, she still had a few tricks. One of her secondary screens blinked as what Hiven had gathered came through, and she spared it a glance. A porcine Tellarite face was attached. Captain Bem Gev, apparently. Had clearly been fast-tracked, judging by the service dates. Even captained the Academy water polo team. But according to _Great Owl_, he and ship should be deep in the Solanae Sphere. No information on configuration, sadly.

"Starting to read fluctuations," Satra reported, "Sensor analysis being passed for tactical review." Which is when the _Hestia_ suddenly blinked off tactical, to reappear immediately behind the giant warbird, at perfect range. _Great Owl_'s shuddering grew with intensity as the weapons regenerated their power. Satra's composure continued without a beat, "Ship has moved without gravimetric distortion - not a singularity jump. No warp field detected, subspace field detected!"

An'riel cursed, "Subspace jumper - I've heard of it but that's rare this side of the border." The ship lurched again, and sparks flew as the Warbird struggled to disperse the firepower brought to bear.

"Rear shields at fifty percent!" Veril reported, "And dropping fast - overall shielding at 30!" She punched a button and cursed, "We've not had enough time to generate signularity charge!"

"Warp shadow?" An'riel asked. That was an unusual ability, but gravity was the Republic's artform. They could confuse the enemy sensors for a few seconds, enough to avoid the cutting beam and cannons, and cloak away without dropping their shields first. She was _angry_ yes, but it was not worth 1500 lives to strike back.

Virel hesitated, "Barely, limited effect, I can get maybe one signature." An'riel nodded. The Reman sighed and tapped into the power bleeding off their core. An'riel waited - timing on this was critical, into the realm of captaining rather than a system, and she waited to utilize the proper cloak and drop their shields. Before she could, however, a wave of charged particles left their shields glowing - and a tractor beam reached out to slow them to a crawl.

An'riel growled. They had not been able to ascertain their enemy's identity, but they would not let their throats be cut silently, "Open the dampener manifolds - emergency maneuvers authorized, bring us about, maneuver plan four as soon as we can break the tractor. Tactical, you are authorized to return fire as weapons bear." Her crew nodded and busied themselves in preparation, before the ship's shuddering switched tones. An'riel spun her chair as the engineering repeater lit up with red.

Veril reported urgently, one hand in her ear in a transciever as she relayed reports. "Targeted damage to engines."

"With a cutting beam?" Torvan asked in disbelief.

"Target utilized a targeted antiproton array - probably the miniaturized versions from the Solanae - I have a count on forward weapons," Satra reported. An'riel blinked, she'd figured it had been loaded for kill after hearing it had been deployed in the Solanae space, and traded off the beam arrays.

She cursed, rear shields were about to collapse, and they'd barely begun to cut through _Hestia's_ - it would be a few seconds more before they had a good enough picture of the current EPS routing to try another subsystem attack, and they were being herded against the asteroids, and now fighters began to emerge. She nodded in sick appreciation at her enemy. Her ship's usual gravity well and multifire tactics against swarms would not be as effective. She had lost. An'riel's mouth dropped open and nodded as her mind caught up with its last thought. S_he_ had lost, her ship's configuration and usual moves, even how she had trained her crew had been accounted for expertly.

"Hiven - signal my surrender - open call. Prepare to secure combat systems if they respond," An'riel requested, calmly, tapping her armrest.

"Admiral? A false surrender-" Jeral began, and stopped at the look An'riel gave.

"There is nothing false!" she snapped, the bridge settling into silence. "I cannot win this battle in its current form. We have been carefully planned against, and our heads are in the snare. Subcommander Hiven, signal our surrender!"

"Yes, Admiral," The Romulan tapped briefly at his console. "Audio-only response."

"Jolan tru, Admiral, this is Captain Gev" came a husky baritone, sounding pleased. "I have no wish to destroy your ship at this time. Please lock down your weapons and place your ship on the heading I will transmit, I will open negotations in a moment." An'riel looked around at the crew, and nodded slowly. The voice had not sounded mad.

After a brief, if lingering pause, the main screen came on, showing a Tellarite in Starfleet uniform. Judging by the trophies haphazardly placed on the shelving behind him, this was probably a ready room. And it was Starfleet, no dagger insignia of the mirror universe present, or the barbaric splashes to their uniform design.

An'riel rested her head in one hand as one rested on the console, and tapped out commands. _Hiven, please confirm apperance matches, and zoom on shelving to my screen_. Aloud, she spoke.

"Captain Gev, I protest this unprovoked, random, _intermperate_ attack on your government's ally," she began, though Gev gave no real reaction. "My ship, however, is at your mercy from this unprovoked and unexplained act of aggression."

"Yes," replied her Starfleet(?) opponent, "That was clever with the open call - I could not merely continue the attack with no reaction after my bridge crew heard. They do not yet understand, but," he leaned forward, "You do show, or ape, tremendous compassion. I can entertain your curiosity for this piece of agg-"

"_Unprovoked_," she interrupted.

The Tellarite laughed lightly, "Ah, Captain, that is truly a lie. I am sending transporter coordinates to one of the asteroids. I guarantee it is not simply rock, but you would, I believe know. Your vessel will transmit its computer codes to my ship and its first officer, leaving it under their control. You will beam down alone. You will see, and if you are not what I believe, which I suppose is still in projections," he mused aloud. An'riel ground her teeth. This was not the first sadist who _enjoyed_ letting you know when someone was in their power, and their delight in it sickened her. But at this point, it was what she had to count on. He shook himself, "Anyway, meet me at the coordinates. You may bring weapons if you wish, it will not matter."

The screen cut off with finality. An'riel turned to her science crew, holding up a hand to forestall Torven for a moment. "Follow instructions, tell the armory to prepare my usual ground gear. First: Satra?"

Satra nodded, "Facial profile matches that of Captain Bem Gev - we were able to get a retina scan, and it was Tellarite, eighty-five percent probability of match given family history and Tellarite genetics." An'riel nodded, impressed. They didn't have Starfleet's biometric database, and that was a fine piece of work.

Hiven popped the zoomed image on screen, of several dusty Academy and high school water polo trophies. "This is what you asked for, but I don't see…" he shrugged, "Admiral, we can send a virus over with the codes with a little work, we have all those Tal Shiar matrices we've kept evolving." Hiven pressed a few buttons, "No follow-up, but we've still got a carrier wave on _Hestia_, they're not answering."

An'riel smiled, "No, the Tal Shiar's favorite little devils have come in handy before, but I think this," she pointed at the trophies, "is enough to start a working theory. If I'm right," she said after a pause, "Torvan, just to tilt the scales - can you see any advantage of not firing all weapons from ambush?"

The old security hand thought a moment and shook his head, surprised at the question. "Except in mattters of weapon timing or range, but that's limited more by sensors, and ECM/ECCM - the kinetic beam doesn't cost ammunition, so even if it doesn't do much against shields, it's still useful, and it doesn't have the positioning problems of a torpedo," he answered.

"Last time you switched weapons, how long did it take you to get used to it at the firing range?" An'riel asked, mind racing.

"Well, the new split beam from New Romulus looks a little different, but it wasn't like I switched gun types-" he stopped, eyes narrowing. "You don't think he's who he says he is."

"I think perhaps, yes, he is not - I do think he may be from this universe though, and I do not think he has gone after such a great target yet, but he has been at this duty" An'riel allowed. "And I have bought us a few more minutes, at least, by the Elements," she sighed, "Veril, see if you can prepare a cloaked log buoy if nothing else. Starfleet knows where we are. There will be questions, there will be Rihannsu seeking answers." The Reman nodded, saluting with hand to her chest, as An'riel stood.

"An'riel," Hiven said urgently, "A new signal has come on-line - we're getting a transporter signal receiver antenna at the coordinates." An'riel studied the tactical plot briefly and shook her head.

"Well, I will not become one with earth yet, I suppose," she said. No one laughed, but she'd tried the joke before. She shrugged, and patted Torvan on the shoulder. "You have command - see if you can get them to talk over there. They are Federation, they usually enjoy it. This was a trap for _me_," she said, frowning briefly, "Perhaps its jaws will close empty on you. If not, you know the transference procedure. Get the ship to New Romulus if you can. D'tan will confirm your command."

Torvan, her oldest ally, with all the blood they'd shed, shook his head, "We'll get you out," he promised.

"No, Torvan," she said urgently, "This isn't lurking around, biting off pieces of the Tal Shiar - this was set up for me, and we don't know if every one of our friends in Federation service is having _the same thing happen_." Her eyes blazed briefly.

Torvan paused, concerned, "You really think the Federation would turn on us like this? The Vulcans-" he stopped, "You're right - just, be careful."

An'riel nodded, "I'm carrying full rig - even if he's prepared for me, I've got a lot of tricks customized into my armor by now. And Torvan - keep trying to raise the _Hestia_ until you can get our people home. I was watching the tacfeeds. Not a flicker of energy on that rock until the transporter came on. No cloak, and no evidence of subspace comm through all that rock - that means at least _unusual_ and may mean _old_." An'riel headed to the turbolift, but its screen came on. Her first officer apparently wasn't quite done with the conversation.

"We found you last time - or time before last," Torvan amended.

"True, but this doesn't feel Iconian, too blatant after all the work to get us here. I would expect them to attack directly in a follow-up if they were trying to eliminate witnesses, I've frustrated their pawns enough." An'riel mused, "Tell _Hestia_ I'll be down in two minutes, even if they aren't answering."

A minute later, An'riel found her vision clearing from the blaze of transporter effect to be standing in a transporter pad at the end of a dug-out rock shaft. She dug her tricorder out immediately, leaving her pistol at her hip. The walls were polished, so probably energy weapons of some kind long ago. No radiation left. The wall conduits looked Federation standard between the lights. She focused a scanner on one, these were much newer - the bore-holes for the mounting brackets hadn't abraded at all.

Ahead of her was a standard airlock, again from a Federation pattern, and she shrugged, keeping an eye on the signals. As she approached, but before the usual pickup range for an automatic door, it swung open. Her lips thinned. "Parlor games," she stated, and glanced at the tricorder. No one appeared or tried to defend their dramatics.

All that was immediately visible was rock - apparently an airlock set up built into a corner. Definitely energy fields ahead - probably set up as dampeners, she'd used a few of the same force configurations before. She shrugged and continued.

As she stepped through the second lock, the lights briefly flared - and cleared, as An'riel found herself staring at herself. Or at least a hologram, hovering on a small projector on a conference table. Beside it leaned Captain Gev. More importantly, behind was an active Iconian gate, flipping between various points - she spotted at least K-7, what looked like a Klingon space dock, and several subspace transmitters.

Gev gestured dramatically, "I'm sorry to have to give your crews this hope unnecessarily, but you're the first Romulan I've gotten, and I needed to confirm - you know how Romulans are at plotting. Starfleet is easy, but you could be playing a deep game."

"Any plotting is purely tactical," she replied, half-automatically, "What confirmation? I could have beamed over a blood sample."

"Confirmation this was indeed you in this Iconian database! Admiral An'riel tel'Riessei she'Virnat. Listed as person of interest and prime manipulator on their behalf. A traitor to your people and mine on a mind-boggling scale. If you'd been Undine or a Changeling - well, that I could drag back to Starfleet Command and perhaps spare your ship, but who knows what dark things you have brewing aboard?" Elements help her, he actually smiled, "I actually had an Undine - this thing is very good at spotting the threads, but I'm sure you've noticed how this room dampens energy, it wasn't ready for that."

An'riel later wondered if this was the part where Starfleet captains had stammered in sheer shock at the insanity, but she'd spent the last few years being vilified by her former government, "I am not an Iconian collaborator - I have spent my entire career as a captain defending Romulans, and your Federation from their pawns. If you are trying to make me angry, you are doing a poor job." She glanced at the data playing - it even had when she had her mourning tattoos removed in the physiological data, though it seemed notably more complete from the point she'd gotten on Hakeev's kill-list. Still, this was not some simple lie.

Gev waved it away, "Oh yes, so many 'heroes' and 'star captains'. I had thought at first when I found the place, but the more time I spent here, the more obvious it became. The same names, showing up at crisis after crisis! Keeping your thumbs on the events. The Federation encountered two gates in thirty years. You rose from some dustball to one of the Republic's finest fighting admirals, encountering almost every major threat the Quadrants have faced in the last quarter-century along the way, and have seen what, five?"

"I have often admitted I lead an eventful life," An'riel said, trying to move around the light towards the portal. Gev paced parallel however. He seemed very confident - probably a sword somewhere around or another melee weapon. "I would argue by your hypothesis that the very qualities of a strong captain are recognized by both our governments, and I have a tendency to be placed into harm's way. And naturally, with a pattern of success, the Iconians would also be interested in tracking those individuals - you may, however inadvertently, done them a great service."

Gev, finally to An'riel's mind, exploded, "Oh yes, the common argument. Look at the successes! But even as the Tal Shiar is destroyed, Sela is captured. Your efforts helped us see the scope of Iconian manipulation in fluidic space, but both did not stop it and allowed an Undine agent to be placed at the heart of our advanced technology research. And-" he held up a finger, "You can be no true Romulan - the very architect of your people's death slipped through your hands twice. The second time, just 'happening' to be a situation that led her out of the Federation's most secure prison"

An'riel's hands flexed as she contnued to walk, "Taris was in no situation to be captured initially - I did _not_ by any measure consider that mission a success, and given the situation in the Facility, I was not checking people who were apparently staying in their cells. My priority was restoring the situation at Deep Space 9 to avoid opening another war."

"Yes, yes, I've seen the report - your word, a Changeling's, a Vorta, and one of your henchmen what with the entire computer system collapsing at your visit. And you've killed the Jem'hadar you consider the orchestrator. Very convenient. But your ship has been effectively neutralized, and I know you don't have Starfleet's close combat training - literally better beings than you have tried," Gev said dismissively, tapping a few triangles on the console between them. The gate shifted view to her bridge - her crew desperately rebuilding the shields, and then what looked like his own, before with a crackle, plasma began to vent to either side. An'riel blinked at the sudden heat.

"It's very simple - confronted by the evidence, you engage in a suicide charge. What's left of your body will be unable to make any signals to your masters. I control this facility, and then your ship will be another accident put down to Klingon raiders - and as the cease fire extends, I'll get access to the signalling codes to arrange the same for your friends on the other side of the border." He laughed contemptuously, "The _Hestia_'s not quite convinced, so I had to do this the hard way," he gestured behind him, then pointed at the pistol An'riel had unstrapped when he mentioned her ship's destruction had not yet been ordered. "I guarantee you can't burn through this shield rig in time - all I have to do is knock you back into the path of those," he said, pointing at the plasma spewing, "And wait."

An'riel hit the overcharge settings on her best compression pistol and threw the dice, triggering a bolt. Commissioned on New Romulus, there were certainly more devastating weapons available, and definitely larger ones, but she'd always preferred pistols for the quick shots when relaying data to the big guns. And as an extra thumb on the scales, this one had an extra-tight compressed stream. Gev's shield barely flared, but without being braced, the force knocked him back through the gateway, appearing to his shock on his own bridge.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Captain," she remarked, and walked towards the gate, unstrapping her tricorder. There was on chance yet of beaming down a team, and as risky as it was - if she didn't leave the gate, she was dead, the _Owl_ was dead, and far too many others who had done nothing but excelled were at risk.

Wondering, exactly, where her life had gone from investigating vengeance to just odd, for at least the fourth time in her life, Admiral An'riel, jumped through an alien gateway built by a hostile species into the technically unknown.

The bridge of the _Hestia_ was all soft greys, blues, and an immense diversity of aliens united by their uniforms and the dumbfounded expressions on their faces. An'riel was more interested in her tricorder as she kept it aimed at the Tellarite sprawled in front of the captain's chair.

"Much easier without the dampening field," she commented, "But thank you for setting the gateway here - it'll avoid some awkward questions from Starfleet. Now… when did you kill the captain, and who are you?" A quick press of a button, and a quick tachyon burst fired in a shower of Cherenkov radiation. The Tellarite in front of her blurred, tried to solidfy, and collapsed into a dark-skinned human or near-human. The bridge crew, which had been bringing sidearms to bear, spun them to cover the changed figure, and then wavered to cover the other two. An'riel merely folded her arms.

The figure stood up, and brushed his uniform, "Federation Intelligence, Alonzo Sidonia." He looked around, "I can guarantee you, that the removal of your captain was necessary for the safety of the Federation, and our actions may save millions." The intelligence agent looked squarely at the Romulan, "How did you find me."

An'riel laughed, "Not that easy. Commander," she stated, finding the cranberry-shirt with the most rank pips, "I'm assuming our two government are not, in fact at war, and would like to charge this man with crimes up to murder, high treason, and barrity." The commander nodded, but to An'riel's horror, Alonzo actually laughed.

"Don't be confused! All these miraculous victories you've had - the strings to reach such a powerful ship, Gev was just as much a threat as the others. They have it all documented - they're just waiting to activate. Who knows what havoc they'll wreck now that our guard is down?"

An'riel rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead ridges, "Yes, all documented. I am a puppet of the Iconians, just waiting for the demons to grab the strings again and leave us all helpless before our dread masters," she said, "Or… I've been lucky enough, and clever enough to survive dangers long enough to be tapped for my experience with crazy. But you know everything, so… what's my true name?"

Gev/Sidonia stared blankly. An'riel smiled triumphantly. Literally everyone who knew the name that went to her core was dead - with all the disappearances and piracy of the Tal Shiar, she'd not told anyone else. And her life was insane enough now that it was more dangerous to _tell_ her closest friends, since it was way too obvious a trust password. Any duplicates who suggested it were, therefore, to be shot on sight. Standing orders.

"I am myself, not the Iconians' pawn. They don't know everything, they're not omnipotent, and the Federation doesn't either. Commander, may I have control of my ship back and the prisoner? There's a base down there that needs a forensic team very badly." The Commander moved his phaser squarely over the intelligence officer.

Alonzo spat, "You're all fools - this is just a setback! Computer, code Trojan-Omega" and tapped a button on the side of the captain's chair, vanishing with transporter effect, before power suddenly cut out on the bridge. An'riel whirled, but _Great Owl's_ bridge vanished from the screen, and she tapped her communicator to no effect.

"They're still locked out of the control systems," the Commander said ruefully. "Give us a few minutes and we should have it back up." He nodded to two in operations who began pulling open panels on consoles.

An'riel sighed and said, "He could literally be on the other side of the galaxy. I suspect another round of offices back at K-7." She walked past the commander and slumped in _Hestia's_ command chair, staring up over ridged brows, "Get me back to my ship commander - there's a lot of questions we need to answer."

A few days of very odd questions had followed. An Iconian gateway had to be shared with the Alliance, and the database was proving very useful for figuring Iconian intelligence techniques. Loss rates of 'elite' ships were still being matched up and the damage was proving to be extensive. Now, An'riel sat in a small lounge with a pot of tea and waited one final interview.

True to form, he announced his presence from behind her. "So, was it one thing, or did you just gamble the Federation hadn't launched an elaborate snare from circumstantial evidence?" She didn't turn. Franklin Drake, a distressingly unidentified member of part of the Federation's intelligence apparatus, had tapped her for missions before. She didn't care personally for the man, but her honor over his intrusion onto her ship in the Devidian matter had been settled.

Once the debt is paid, you move on to new business. She enjoyed playing it up since it told her liason officer that his government and its institutions were not perfect… and reminded her crew they weren't either. She hadn't figured out why Drake seemed to enjoy the appearance of rivalry - maybe it was his own hair shirt.

Regardless… she turned and held up fingers as she listed, "Personal, tactical, and scientific evidence. Enlightened or no, people react to stereotypes, and I was leaning on the Tellarite 'argumentative' one pretty hard, and he simply refused to engage. Very unusual." She chuckled, "And all the recent emphasis on captain's personalizing their ships, and uniforms, and he hadn't bothered to dust his trophies. Starfleet is usually more fastidious."

Her eyes hardened and she continued, "His tactics were uncertain in a ship that had not engaged in a refit in six months, and should have been known like the back of his hand, and more flexible. I think I could have made a fight of it if I desired sudden war between our governments. And he didn't want to risk energy fields near his body and so wasn't armed with ranged weapons, his expression matched _exactly_ his picture in our files without any changes, and I couldn't get a clear life sign on him, even though there was some sort of bio-scanner set up."

She shrugged and said, "If I was wrong, then I'd bought more time for my ship and K-7 to wonder what was happening, and I'd seeded the seeds of distrust with his crew when his anti-Iconian crusade was using Iconian systems. Thin, but I didn't have much setup time."

Drake nodded and said, "The Council is sending an apology to your government, and we've got a forensic team that has a decent idea where the last gate settings were set to before he randomized him. We also know where he should have been and what he should have been doing, and will work to eliminate those resources."

An'riel nodded and said, "Yes, but those resources almost certainly be tied to Starfleet in some way, so be careful." Drake looked mildly surprised and she explained, "All the power of some very good infiltration gear and a magic door, and he was after field officers, when he could have hit admirals, strategists, communication points - affect whole fleets."

"He may have been trying to avoid capture or build a case before doing something so high-profile," Drake suggested.

"Or he may have been right, and the Iconians have data feeds from our Headquarters," An'riel countered, "Thoes records had to come from somewhere. Stay safe, Mr. Drake." An'riel smiled and stood up to walk out, "And remember to keep saying please - I doubt you'll see many captains wanting to just obey strange orders in Erdiani for a while."

"We'll root them out. My organization is _very_ thorough," Drake said, "I will not let the Federation fall."

An'riel stopped and drew herself up, "I've heard that before, Mr. Drake, just as confidently, and when it proved not to be true getting rid of them has hurt many, many people," she said calmly after a moment to center. She started again towards the door and finished, "But those who thought themselves above reproach were brought down, and the Republic will work to make sure the same happens to the Iconains, and… others if need be."

Drake didn't respond, but she doubted he saw the need. Whatever spider's web he thought himself the center of wasn't a problem for herself or the Republic, at least this week. Outside, _Great Owl_ waited to head back to New Romulus, and more straightforward problems. If the Federation couldn't finish its housecleaning, then Duty would demand her return, but that was only a potential problem. The Spheres and the Iconians, meanwhile, beckoned.


End file.
